


Will You Keep It?

by notwest



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, First Kiss, Humanstuck, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Explicit, Pining, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwest/pseuds/notwest
Summary: Karkat makes a spur of the moment decision that could jeopardize his friendship with Dave for good.But he only kissed Dave to prove a point.Didn't he?





	Will You Keep It?

**Author's Note:**

> another first kiss fic, because i spend all day thinking about these two disaster boys and experiencing severe eighth hand embarrassment

**== > Karkat: Go off.**

The New York City Subway is bullshit. Bullshit, steeped in rank, unidentifiable, mold covered garbage laden water. It's a fucking unbelievable fact of life that literal millions of people get up every day to ride in a shitty tin can through a fucking sewer, and yet. Here you are.

But really, your biggest problem with the subway right now is probably that you've been stuck in the same car with with Dave Strider for forty fucking minutes. 

"Do you realize that we wouldn't be stuck on this train if it wasn't for you and that hysterical rat that you call a god damn pet!"

"Aha dude, are you still mad that he scratched you? Do you want me to kiss it better? 'Cos I totally can. C'mon Karkat, let pappy Strider heal your wounds."

You can tell he's fucking winking at you behind those idiotic sunglasses he always insists on wearing in public. He reaches his hands out toward your bandaged arm while pursing his lips stupidly, and you swat them away with a hiss. He laughs. 

"Just so I'm clear, in this scenario you're my lover, doctor  _ and _ my father?" you ask, leaning back in a fruitless endeavor to get comfortable in the unforgiving, too small plastic seat. "No wonder I'm so fucked up."

Dave just shrugs. "Jaspers wouldn't have scratched you if you weren't getting all up in his cat grill. I saw you bumping him out of the way with your hips, touching his lucky spatula--man you're lucky that's all he did."

You simmer. "He's fucking rabid."

"Come on. You know Rose would frame me for murder if she found out I didn't feed her creepy cat while she was away."

"I'm about to frame my foot squarely up your ass! You could have fed him literally any other time." You turn to face Dave, but he keeps looking forward with that fucking infuriating little grin he has stamped on his insolent face. "Newsflash, our presentation is today, asswipe!"

"You didn't even have to come with me," he answers flatly. "I already told you just because we're partners doesn't mean we have to do everything together like our only way to stay connected is through two tin cans and a three foot piece of string--"

Dave keeps rambling, and your past experience tells you that with a reply of this calibre he could easily burn through fifteen minutes, so your mind wanders. 

Oh, what. He's your friend, but that doesn't mean he can't be really fucking annoying, approximately all the time. You start looking at the two men standing in the middle of the car, just front of you. They're dressed in tight work slacks and light colored shirts with their collars undone. You catch the end of their conversation, realizing with a dangerous rattle of anger that of course, they are the most fucking absolutely accurate representation of the best male specimen that this diseased city has to offer. Which is to say that they are complete and utter fucking assholes. 

Their conversation has grown so loud that even Dave's stopped talking now, and is just sitting stiffly beside you. You can feel his tension seeping out from every ill stoppered pore. You clench your fists.

"I swear bro," the douchey looking one says to the other, equally douchey looking one, "Let his pasty ass come up to me one more time and it'll be  _ hasta manana_, faggo."

You just barely catch Dave's flinch at those last words, and your vision turns red. 

"Hey," you shout, "Fuck you, asshole!" 

They both look down at you, faces unchanged, and you feel all the irritation that's been building up since the start of this ride and beating a steady pressure into the front of your skull, start bleeding into your words. You scowl, and rise from your seat. You make a pleased note that one of them takes a microscopic step back. "When I got on the train today I sure don't remember swiping at the turnstile hoping to run into two paint guzzling, slur happy, intolerant fucks!" 

You turn to face the other douchey one. "It's two thousand and fucking eighteen, dicksneeze, didn't your failure of a parental figure pass any living brain cells into that oversized, rotted lump of potato you call a skull? Since the answer to that is clearly no, it's your lucky day! I happen to be holding remedial classes in respect just for ignorant, banana republic wearing, pole humping sacks of shit like you, right here, in a single car engagement!" 

You clap giddily, throwing your arms in the air. "Welcome to the school for debutantes, assholes! Rule number one and forever: Have! Some! Common! Fucking! Decency!” 

You're panting now, but pleased. The two guys look like they just got slapped in their respective faces, their eyes are flitting around them as if looking for an exit. Fortunately, there is no escaping your wrath. 

"I'm sorry man," one of them says, with his hands halfway up in a weak gesture of surrender.

"Won't happen again, okay?” says the other.

Yeah,  _ sure_. An idea comes into your head that you immediately put into action. 

“Whatever," you tell them, "Now if you don’t fucking mind, I’m going to kiss the absolute living shit out of my _boyfriend_."

You turn to Dave, you haven’t looked at him this whole time but now that you are, he’s staring at you completely slack jawed. You sit back in your seat, grab him by the face and kiss him deeply, while lifting your other arm to artfully flip off the two men, and anyone else who dares to have a fucking problem with you. 

The rest of the train car errupts into applause. You just keep pressing your triumphant smile to Dave's lips, grateful that he's allowing you to put on this show, and feeling the adrenaline crash over you like a fifty foot wave. 

***

**== > Dave: Be kissed.**

You are so fucking sunk. 

Fact one: you have a crush on your best friend. Fact two: baring all the times he threatens to fill your ass with a menagerie of various objects--including his own body parts--he's never expressed even a miniscule amount interest in you. Fact three: no matter how many times Rose tells you to get over yourself and ask Karkat out already, you're way too terrified about being rejected to ever get off your ass and do something about the way you feel.

But it's fine. You're fine, and you've been dealing with it just fine. Your preferred method is simple, it's to just completely ignore that part of your brain as best you can. Sure, there are the more than occasional intrusive thoughts, when you catch him with his shirt off, or when you're walking a bit too close and your hands brush, or when you're having a Netflix night with definitively no chill. 

Now, being in denial becomes pretty god damn impossible when said, super sexy, heretofore uninterested in you friend up and kisses you like it's your last day alive for an impromptu performance piece in middle of a stopped fucking subway car, to the applause of dozens of strangers.

So yeah. You're sunk.

Somehow, the kiss happens both in slow motion and fast forward. One second you're trying to stop yourself from getting all hot and bothered by the sight of Karkat passionately lecturing two dudebros into a corner, and the next, you're smelling the coconut moisturizer he uses on his skin, and experiencing first hand what it's like to have his tongue curl into your mouth, sending a shock of heat through you like a branded poker.

In the meantime, you are spending the eternity of seconds when he's moving toward you and then thoroughly macking on you trying to make yourself understand that you cannot under any circumstances attach any meaning to this, that he's just trying to prove a point, it's not real…

But you can't stop the flush that rises to your face and the way your heart rate ramps up like you’re about to plunge down Kingda Ka. You've imagined doing this with him so many times and so the reality of Karkat's lips on yours—and holy shit, his hand leaving your face to knead steadily into your inner thigh—is only driving you a little insane. And if you popped a half chub during the whole affair, well, that's your business isn't it.

When Karkat lets go of your face, he's grinning like mad, and you grin back at him for a second before catching yourself and quickly rearranging your face. He very conspicuously grabs your hand, then, and holds it for the entirety of the ride. You're distantly aware that he's talking to you, clearly energized by his victory, but you can't really focus on anything except the warmth of his fingers against yours, helplessly replaying the memory of the kiss over and over in your mind. Fuck.

After ten minutes, the train starts moving. The guys get off at the next stop while Karkat glares at them, squeezing your hand in a death grip. He lets go as soon as the doors ding closed, and your mind is left reeling.

You end up making it to City College with just a couple of minutes to spare. You let Karkat do most of the talking during your shared presentation on the impact of Karl Marx. Luckily, this is not too different from what you would normally do, because you don't think you'd be able to say much of anything today without maybe puking a little bit. 

After class, Karkat immediately starts going off about the faults of some other pair's presentation and you walk beside him, nodding and making shallow comments at all the right times. Whenever you make eye contact with him through your shades, your stomach squirms violently. You hate just how hard your feelings are pummeling you right now and you just--you need to get away. 

Normally, at this point you guys would head back to Karkat's place--mostly because it's much, much cleaner than the one bedroom apartment you share with your Bro--and he would put on some shitty romantic comedy, you would complain about it heavily but not make him change it, and then you would both settle in for the night. But there's no fucking way you'd be able to handle spending any more time with Karkat than you have to today. You just need some time to think, and hopefully to forget. He has no fucking idea what he's done to you, to your perfectly repressed feelings. Time to get the fuck out of here.

"Karkat, listen," you say when you both reach the entrance, "I think I'm just going to go chill at my place for a bit."

Karkat visibly deflates. "I fucking knew you would chicken out of watching Titanic!" 

"It's not that," you insist, scratching at the back of your neck, "I'm just super wrecked dude. The presentation took a lot out of me."

Karkat snorts and slings his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, all point five of the brain cells that you used today sure did get a workout. But whatever." He hesitates, his hand on the door. "See you tomorrow, then, I guess."

"Yeah. Bye, dude."

You turn away from him and start the walk toward your apartment. Yeah, distance would be good for a while, you think. You walk as quickly as you can, trying not to make it too obvious that you're running away. 

***

**== > Karkat: Freak out.**

Halfway through your solo viewing of Titanic, a thought pops into your head. Dave is a good kisser. Huh. Interesting. 

You brush the thought aside and keep watching, but a few minutes later, it returns. Along with another, and another, until slowly, thoughts about your kiss with Dave consume you, and you have to stop the movie altogether. 

Okay, you kissed Dave today. So? What's the big deal, it was just a stunt so you could shove your metaphorical fist down each of those assholes' fetid throats. And Dave was fine with it wasn't he, he hadn't pushed you away or told you off, he knew, like you did, how important it was to tell those morons off. Right?

You think back, and now that you're focusing specifically on Dave instead of your own self righteous crusading, you remember how red his face had gotten, and how quiet he'd been throughout the day, and how quickly he had disappeared after class. You hadn't noticed his subtle reactions, you were so caught up in your own bullshit. You know better than that now, with Dave. Your stomach drops. Oh no. 

You tear at your hair. Leave it to you to fuck up the one good relationship you had with another human person. Typical. You look over at your phone, but the idea of messaging Dave about this sends prickles of anxiety skittering up your skin like fire ants.

You suck it up and grab your phone. Your stomach is in knots as you navigate to the messaging app. You see the last messages you guys exchanged this morning about meeting at the subway and your stomach flips. What did you do?

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \-- 

CG: JUST SO YOU ARE AWARE, TITANIC IS AN ETERNAL CINEMATIC TREASURE, DARE I EVEN SAY *JEWEL*, THAT YOU ARE COMPLETELY MISSING OUT ON DUE TO LEAVING ME LIKE A SHIT-STAINED TOWEL OUT TO FUCKING DRY TODAY FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON.  
CG: WELL, I HOPE YOU'RE GETTING SOME REST, AT LEAST.   
CG: AND... I NEVER THANKED YOU FOR EARLIER.   
CG: FOR, YOU KNOW, THE WHOLE KISSING THING. YOU WENT WITH IT SMOOTHLY, SO I FIGURED IT WAS OKAY BUT I GUESS I DON'T WANT TO BE THE KIND OF ASSHOLE WHO DOES CRAZY SHIT LIKE THAT AND JUST EXPECTS THE OTHER PERSON TO BE FINE.  
CG: I MEAN, THAT WOULD BE BORDERLINE SEXUAL HARASSMENT. I MEAN, OH MY GOD WHAT AM I SAYING.  
CG: I JUST KEEP THINKING ABOUT IT AND IT DEFINITELY SEEMS LIKE YOU WERE AT LEAST A LITTLE BIT OFF TODAY AND I CAN'T HELP BUT WONDER IF IT WAS ABOUT THAT.  
CG: ...ABOUT THE KISS.  
CG: WELL, FOR THE RECORD, I TRULY APOLOGIZE FOR EXPOSING YOU TO THE REVOLTING PASTIME THAT IS KISSING ME. OR ME KISSING YOU, I GUESS.  
CG: FROM MY SIDE, THE EXPERIENCE WAS WAY MORE ENJOYABLE, BY LEAPS AND BOUNDS, I'M SURE.  
CG: UGH WAIT. THAT CAME OUT WRONG. NOT LIKE THAT. I JUST MEAN THAT IT WAS NOT... UNPLEASANT. IT WAS NICE.  
CG: FUCK  
CG: OKAY  
CG: NEVERMIND

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \-- 

You throw your phone away from your body, yelling. It feels like your heart is clogging your throat and you think you just told Dave that you enjoyed kissing him? Fuck. Fuck! What is even  _ happening _right now!?

You try to focus on just breathing for a second. Your entire body feels like it's preparing to blast off toward the fucking sun. What the hell is Dave going to say to that swirling category five shit storm you just left in his inbox? You can only pray that he's sleeping, so you'll at least have time to properly kill yourself before he gets the chance to read your messages.

You start pacing. Okay, there’s still a chance he hasn't checked his phone. He said he wasn't feeling well, he could be sleeping. If you leave now, you might be able to get to his apartment before he reads them, so you have a chance to explain yourself. 

You pull on your jacket and run out the door. It’s only a fifteen minute walk to Dave’s, ten if you power walk. You hold your phone in a death grip as you walk, terrified that you're about to feel it buzz with a message from Dave. 

There’s no point in denying it anymore. You can fucking recognize the symptoms of a crush, you've had enough misguided infatuations for a lifetime. You've always known that Dave was objectively attractive, slim built, and blonde with a nesting of freckles that even you've caught yourself staring at as they dance enticingly across the bridge of his nose. Now, when you think about it your mind goes a little further. Your body warms, and the memory his tongue against yours yanks sharply from somewhere behind your belly button. 

Three fourths of the way there, your phone does go off in your hand, and you nearly piss your fucking pants. It takes you two minutes to build up the balls to click past the home screen, and when you do, it's just a coupon notification from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. 

You spit a curse. Practicing what you're going to say to Dave when you see him is almost impossible, you can barely think for the anxiety that feels like it's digesting you from the inside out. Your mind helpfully inserts a fantasy of Dave grabbing you right there in the doorway and kissing you before you can even get a word out. You shake the thought away hard, like your brain is a misguided, lust-drunk etch-a-sketch. 

You could apologize, at the very least. Grovel at Dave's knees, explain that the kiss on the subway was just a stupid, over-the-top impulse, that those texts you sent were a product of some Nyquil-induced delirium, and shove your feelings right the fuck down where they will never see the light of day again. The prospect hurts a little, but not more than it would to lose Dave. You can't do this to him. He deserves your shit less than anyone you know. 

Dave's door is only a few steps away. Your stomach feels like it's been replaced with a bucket full of worms. You slam your fist against his door three times, nonsensically praying again that Dave is asleep, that he's not home, that maybe you can sink into the ground right now, breaking through the Earth's crust to be swallowed mercifully by its molten, inner core.  

***

**== > Dave: Answer it.**

You slam your way into your apartment. The only thing you want right now is a hot shower, so you can wash the day away, or more specifically, wash away the thoughts of Karkat, like mud off a middle schooler after soccer practice. 

You throw your phone across the room, followed by your clothes and pad over to the bathroom. Thankfully, Bro's off playing some DJ gig out of town this week, so you have the apartment to yourself. It's a small blessing. 

You set the water to scalding. Well, you would have, but in reality it's only as hot as your shitty apartment boiler lets it get, which feels kind of like someone is spewing mouthfuls of warm water across your face. You rub at your eyes miserably. Maybe you should have sent Karkat a message. 

And just like that, thoughts of him overtake your mind like a flurry of bats, like they've been waiting for this opportunity all day. Your mind wastes no time recreating the sensation of Karkat's hand, pressing into your thigh… A voice in your head warns you against doing this to yourself, but it's an almost embarrassingly short amount of time before you're no longer thinking with any part of your brain. 

You give in and stroke yourself with abandon, bracing against the wet tile wall with one hand, the sound of rushing water drowning out your small sighs. You've done this before, more times than you're entirely willing to admit, but this time you're fueled by the definite knowledge of exactly how soft Karkat's lips feel against your own, and the way it would feel if he wanted you, if he were to claim you so fiercely and passionately. 

It takes no time at all before you're gasping, jerking and spilling your load down the shower drain. You drop your dick and sigh, the temporary euphoria replaced almost immediately by a sad emptiness. You imagine Karkat sitting home alone, watching Titanic and probably crying his fucking face off at every other scene and a little pang of guilt reverberates through your body like an echo. 

You stand under the water until it turns so cold that you're shivering. You dry your hair and wrap the towel around yourself. You should probably check your phone, in case Karkat texts. 

There's knocking at the door. Except it doesn't sound so much like knocking as it does the solid impacts of a three man battering ram. You hear your name, and the voice that calls it is unmistakable, Karkat is waiting for you outside your door right now. A chill runs through your body. Oh god. 

You flail haphazardly into a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, frantically patting your damp hair down and swearing. So far, your "break" from Karkat is ringing in at a stark fucking zero out of zero. 

You stop right before the door, taking a breath and composing your face before opening it coolly. Except as soon as the light from your apartment door hits his face you can see that Karkat looks distressed. His eyes are wild, and if you didn't know better you would say that he looks honestly terrified. Your heart clenches. Did something happen?

"Dude, are you... okay?"

"Yes," he says quickly, his eyes narrowing at you. "Are you going to let me in or what, fuckstick."

You step aside, and he sweeps past you. You close the door and turn around to see him studying your face closely. 

"Okay," you say slowly. You don't really know what to do. He's trying to hide it, but he still looks really freaked, he's whipping his head back and forth around the room like the FBI are about to spring out from behind the futon and take him away. Normally, you might give him some amount of shit for this, probably some speculatory comments regarding the free usage of recreational drugs, but you're just so scrambled up right now when it comes to Karkat that you can't even manage to rib him properly when he's acting weird as fuck.

Finally he looks at you, taking a deep breath. He looks so earnest all of a sudden, your mind starts trying to escape your body, maybe float up to the stratosphere, something to take a break from the emotional bullshit for a while.

"Woah," you say, raising your hands, "If you're planning on proposing, man, you should know that my dowry is going to be pretty goddamn bare bones. Like, I'm talking a couple slim jims and a lighter. But if you're down then I'm down."

Karkat brings a hand up to his forehead, scrunching his face and digging his fingers into his temples. "Dave, shut the fuck up! Do you know how moronic you sound sometimes? I genuinely think sometimes that my deepest wish is for you to have an out of body experience, just one, so you can gain some semblance of understanding just how much of a burden your very existence is to the intellectual fabric of society!"

Fuck. You're just so tired of this that you legitimately can't even follow his tangents anymore. "Okay," you say flatly, "Did you come all the way over here to tell me that, or."

"No," he says, face softening. "Shit, I'm sorry. There, I said it. I shouldn't have kissed you on the subway, it was selfish and stupid and I was so far up my own gaping asshole that I was positive it was the right thing to do and I fucking only did it because I didn't realize I even had any feelings for you yet, it was just an impulse--"

Your brain skips on his words. 

... _ Didn't realize I had feelings for you yet... _

"--I just saw the way you reacted when those puke swilling cockholes were talking that I had to do something--"

_...Feelings for you... _

"I'm so fucking sorry, Dave, I've been thinking about it all day--"

You've heard enough. You grab his face, cutting him off mid sentence and kiss him hard, as furiously as he kissed you just ten hours ago, when your world had been tilted on its axis all because of some short, shouty guy you sat next to in History 101 who happened to ask you for a spare pen one day. 

Karkat freezes in your grip for a second, then relaxes, and you feel the energy burn through him, eager to match it with your own. You kiss for a while, and there's no applause when you part lips this time but you sure do fucking feel like you've won the grand prize.

Karkat looks down after a second, shuffling his feet, suddenly shy. "Do you want to go for a walk."

"Sure," you say, turning toward your bedroom, "Let me just grab my phone."

You're halfway back to the living room when you see a string of missed messages from Karkat. "Chill, dude," you tell him, still looking down at your phone. "I only left for a second--"

"Fuck! Wait, don't!" Karkat yells, and lunges for you, but it's too late. You're already halfway through the gray wall of text, grin widening as you scroll.

Oh.  _ This is gonna be fun_. 

**Author's Note:**

> kick it with me or send a prompt on [tumblr](http://davekatprompts.tumblr.com)


End file.
